At The Coffee Shop

Lots to try to decipher here . . .


Local 47 – Hollywood

LAST WEEK, I was here at Local 47 to listen — but I was also here to reflect.
This streamline moderne building on Vine Street holds layers of city history.

For decades, Los Angeles had two music unions — one for white musicians — Local 47 and another for blacks, Local 767. It affected all aspects of working-life for players looking for gigs across L.A. and beyond. According to the late pianist Marl Young, one of the organizers of the effort to integrate the locals” . . . . [A]ll the contracts for employment of musicians in the broadcast and motion picture studios were negotiated by the then all-white union. The black union, Local 767 merely adopted the scales negotiated by Local 47, if and when a black musician got a studio call.”

It would take years of negotiations, set-backs, re-deployments, losses and gains to finally integrate the unions fairly. The amalgamation of the two unions became official April 1, 1953. It would be a story told and retold  by the musicians both black and white — among them Red Callender, Buddy Collette, Bill Douglass, Gerald Wiggins, Gerald Wilson, Bobby Short George Kast, Gail Robinson, Seymour Sheklow, Roger Segure, Joe Eger, Henry and Esther Roth, — who pushed back and risked their own employment opportunities to make it happen.

I was privileged enough to be able to interview Buddy Collette several times over the decades, about this and other subjects, before he passed away in 2010. He often said his involvement in this action alone was his proudest moment — beyond any jazz “side” or any any transporting solo.

A few more from Vine Street soon . . .

“The Bass Club”

LAST WEEKEND, I was able to take a brief break from deadline writing and listen-in on a decades-old ritual called “The L.A. Bass Club” at Local 47 on Vine Street in Hollywood, the home of the Professional Musicians Union Hall.

Hosted by classical bassist, Tony Grasso, the “club” is a free clinic for bass players of all genres, and provides an hands-on forum for local musicians to not just hone their craft but to network in world where, more and more, everything is virtual. The weekend’s featured bassist was Jennifer Leitham, whom I wrote about a few years back for the L.A. Times. Her presentation was part memoir, part-troubleshooting lessons and she tackled questions about improvising, the state of jazz and even spirituality — with patience, humor and grace.

Grasso convened the session with a request, “Can someone play the changes of “Moon River” for me? A piano player in the audience rose and took his seat at the grand piano and they launched in, impromptu, getting us in the mood. Someone in the audience who hadn’t quite finished a conversation with a friend apologized for stepping on the notes: “That’s OK, You guys can talk,” the piano player said with a wink, “We’re not soloing yet.”

I’m not a player. But as an avid listener, I’m always curious about process, and the showcase was a rare and interesting window onto what happens among musicians when they are playing together and the vibe is just right. That “leap” that jazz musicians take when they improvise — together — Leightam explained — is for her one of the best reasons for being on the planet. “When I was a kid started on a clarinet but they took the clarinet away from me because when I played a tune, like say, “Sidewalks of New York,” I wanted to improvise. I just couldn’t play it all the way through…”

Years later, after settling on the bass (“I love the vibration; it’s primal”), she found the leap of improvisation was something entirely different:

“You want to think when you practicing. To master things. To correct things. But not when you’re playing. You don’t want to get in the way of what’s happening.
I don’t want to think when I play. I want it to be abstract. I want shades and colors. It’s when you feel like you don’t have a body. You are the instrument. You have to become the notes. And when you’re improvising with other musicians and you all feel time the same way it’s the highest form of art. You have to lift off the ground.”

In a bit, I’ll post some other photos of local 47 & its environs.